


lighthouse in the storm

by brightblackholes



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s04e04 9-1-1 What's Your Grievance?, Found Family, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt/Comfort, takes place right after Buck storms out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:01:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29327457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightblackholes/pseuds/brightblackholes
Summary: After dinner with his parents, Buck starts driving to Eddie's house without consciously making the decision to.A missing scene from 4x04
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Christopher Diaz, Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz, Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 8
Kudos: 333





	lighthouse in the storm

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic for 911!!!!!! ahhhhhhh!!!!
> 
> anyway I watched the entire series in two or three weeks and now here I am! Hope you enjoy

Buck doesn’t remember much of the drive to Eddie’s house. That’s probably a bad sign, but his blood is still boiling, something that feels suspiciously like tears clouding his eyes a little until he blinks them back and can see the road clearly again. At this point he has the route to Eddie’s house memorized from every spot in the city, but he reminds himself to be mindful of everyone else on the road, using that to distract him from the torrent of emotions swirling through his chest. It feels like he’s going to explode if he doesn’t get to Eddie’s quick, a _tick tick boom_ strong enough to level buildings with no survivors.

He doesn’t understand how his parents can still have this effect on him after all of these years.

The Diaz residence comes into view, front light still on and guiding Buck home like the lighthouse in a storm. He shuts his car off and stomps out but lingers by the door, hand on the knob. He has a key and an open invitation to stop by whenever, but he didn’t give Eddie a courtesy call first and he’s not expected. He should probably knock.

The door swings open before he gets a chance, Eddie’s tilted head and slight smile greeting him. He’s dressed down for the night, soft cotton t-shirt stretched over his chest and sleep pants slung low on his hips, and Buck feels part of the storm inside him settle, giving him an eye of a hurricane that he can head towards for a reprieve.

“Took you long enough,” Eddie says. “I expected you earlier. You’re just in time to tell Christopher goodnight.”

He steps back, inviting Buck inside. The entry is warm in contrast to the briskness that accompanies nightfall in winter, enveloping Buck like a hug.

Maybe he’ll ask for one of those later, if he can stop feeling so tightly wound long enough to accept it.

He kicks off his shoes and follows Eddie deeper into the house to Christopher’s room. He’s already in bed but not tucked in, and he lights up when he sees Buck in the doorway. That smile calms the rest of the storm a little bit more, the joy in his face stamping out some of the tension Buck hadn’t realized he was holding in his shoulders.

“Buck!” he says, and just like that Buck is smiling too.

“Hey, Christopher,” he says, reaching forward to run a hand over his spiky hair. He’s still wearing his glasses, always the last thing to come off because he told Eddie once he likes to see him clearly before he goes to sleep, and Buck likes the way it ensures that he’s seeing Buck clearly now, too. He wants to be the person that Christopher sees when he looks at him. He wants everyone else to see that version of Buck, too.

Christopher launches into a story about what he did that day and Buck lets his words wash over him, the familiar cadence of his voice getting his heart to slow it’s beating from a rapid pounding to a normal rhythm. When he asks how Buck’s day was, Eddie is the one who answers.

“Buck was a superhero today, just like he always is. You can ask him more about it tomorrow during breakfast.”

“I’m staying overnight?” Buck asks.

“Yep,” Eddie says, popping the last consonant. “Now say goodnight so Christopher can go to bed.”

“Goodnight, Buck. Love you,” Christopher says, and Buck leans down to kiss his forehead.

“Love you too, Christopher. See you tomorrow.”

He leaves to give Eddie a little bit of privacy for his own goodnight, making his way out to the living room and trying to remember how old he was when his parents stopped tucking him in. He’s not sure if they ever did, because the only face he remembers seeing before sleep is Maddie’s.

Eddie is a good father. He’s not perfect and he had his slip ups, especially early, but he _tries._ He tries so hard and his love for Christopher is overflowing, leaking out of him and getting on anyone close enough. Buck had Maddie, but Christopher has his father, and Carla, and the 118, and every other person who spends thirty seconds with him. Buck is lucky that Christopher likes him enough to still give that big grin every time he sees him.

“Hey,” Eddie says, a heavy hand on his shoulder startling him out of his thoughts. “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” Buck says, bile rising in his throat at the thought of having to rehash everything he just sat through.

“Want a beer?”

He accepts the offer, but when Eddie asks him what he wants to do he comes up empty. Without his anger and hurt and frustration to keep him going, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Feeling a little hollow is better than the biting hurt from earlier, but he’s a man of passion and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Eddie does, because Eddie has a knack for keeping himself calm when people need him to. He goes into every situation ready to assess and help, and he does it in a way that automatically makes everyone feel like the world has slowed a little on its axis, granting them more time to figure things out.

Eddie gets out a deck of cards and teaches Buck how to play a simple game. Somehow, that works better than anything else would’ve. It distracts his hands and his mind, and Eddie’s socked foot pressed against his under the table keeps him grounded, a constant reminder of his presence. In the low light, Buck can still make out all of Eddie’s eyelashes, every feature memorized from all of their exposure to each other real in front of him.

“What’re you looking at?” Eddie asks when Buck has been caught staring too long.

“Nothing,” he says, but it’s not true. There’s a reason he came here tonight, starting on the path to this particular house before he consciously chose it as a destination, and the reason is seated in front of him and asleep in the other room. He’s got a great apartment that he loves and is comfortable in, but somehow this place feels more like home.

When Buck finds himself drooping enough for sleep, he uses the toothbrush in the bathroom that Eddie keeps there for him while Eddie puts blankets out on the couch. He borrows a t-shirt and pair of plaid pants and watches Eddie make a bed for him in his home. When he’s done, he comes over and puts a hand on Buck’s shoulder, eye contact that’s comforting, not invasive.

“It’ll be good to talk about it sometime,” Eddie says.

“Let me tell my therapist first,” Buck sighs, and Eddie nods. That’s what Buck likes about him: Eddie doesn’t push, not unless Buck really needs him to. Sometimes it feels like everyone around him is worried about him, especially now that they know he’s going to therapy, but with Eddie it feels like he can be trusted to know what’s good for himself. Eddie doesn’t demand from him, just is there to take what he needs to give him once he’s ready.

“You know I love you, right? You’ve got a whole family here.”

Buck nods, because he does know that, and he also knows that Eddie means the firehouse, too, not just him and Christopher. Buck has people who love him, and he keeps reminding himself of that. It doesn’t cancel out the fact that his parents should have made him feel loved from the beginning, but it helps.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Eddie says. “If you’re lucky, I’ll even make waffles.” He squeezes his shoulder and heads to the bedroom, Buck following him with his eyes the entire way. He wants to lurch forward and ask to join him, beg Eddie not to take away the steady comfort of his presence yet, but you can’t just ask a guy to share his bed when there’s a perfectly suitable couch right here. That’s not something they do.

Buck wishes it was.

Silence descends on the house and Buck turns off the light and lays down, pushing back thoughts of what happened tonight and trying desperately to replace them with thoughts of Eddie and Christopher. He knows that he can’t ignore it forever, but even though there’s a storm at sea he’s made it to dry land now. The blankets smell like the Diaz house and the couch cushions are familiar. With every inhale he thinks the name of a family member: Maddie, Bobby, Hen, Chimney, Athena, Eddie, Christopher, repeat. Every exhale brings him closer to sleep until he finally slips under with Eddie’s name on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated.


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